


Drinking games

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Boys In Love, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Religious Conflict, Self-Hatred, Small Towns, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kyle broflovski falls in love, but made the mistake of falling in love in rural-town-nowhere South Park, Colorado.





	1. vomit

Kyle had never found it easy to grow up in South Park, surrounded by odd happenings and a racist upbringing, he had always been a little unsettled by the ideology surrounding the tiny mountain town. He wouldn't lie and say he didn't fit into it easily, throwing around slurs and racist jokes, no fat asshole going unripped on by his friends standing in a foot of snow waiting for the school bus.

Growing up was probably the only easy part about living there, going to school with the same 34 people, growing up on the same block as all your closest friends, and waiting everyday to wake up and hop the fence into whoever's yard they had chosen to play in dressed as an elf, a cowboy, a robot, or whatever the Monster Of The Week was. Accustomed to that, as the boys grew up and out of play pretend, the same group changed from the group you invited to play outside and into the group Clyde's girlfriend was forced to invite to her parties. Regardless of that, though, Kyle was uptight and usually took paragraphs of convincing to even consider going to a party like that, like the ones Bebe threw, but Stan usually knew the right things to say.

Either that or Kyle would listen to anything that dumb-ass said, no matter how ridiculous or consequential. His mom would probably murder him if she found out "staying at Clyde's" actually meant he was going to a party where he was designated driver for a goggle of drunk teenagers, all of which were the entire towns sons.

Kyle had always been fine being the designated driver, anything to get him out of the looming peer pressure that the boys in this town applied with a heavy hand, and they all seemed happy having a ride home. Though Kyle wasn't 100% that any of them cared if he was drunk or not, which is probably the main reason he stayed sober; even inebriated teenagers liked the sound of "i haven't had anything to drink!" better then "I'm drunk get in!" but yet again, Kyle knew either way the car would be stacked full. He did it mostly for His friends, his closest ones. It always seemed like Kenny was throwing himself in the face of death, nearly falling and cracking his head open everyday, and Cartman regardless of fatassery, didn't really deserve to be flung from the passenger seat of a car either. Kyle did it mostly for Stan though, because Stan was probably the worst of all. Drinking so much he was pissing himself and couldn't stand, vomiting all over Cartman's mom, and ruining Bebe's "faaaaavorite dress!"-- and the last thing Kyle wanted for Stan was to see him smeared on the pavement in front of his car.

Kyle pulled up in front of Bebe's house, the front door open and groups already forming on the front yard, coolers and yard chairs set up in preparation for a long night. Stan had been excited all day, texting Kyle non-stop about the party, even ignoring the slight chill of the town to wear his hair down. Even in the summer this town felt cold, not cold enough for snow to stick, or even fall, but cold enough to always want to wear a jacket. Kyle always wore a jacket, nervous his arms looked noodley or unflattering, and he was never cold. Stan was up front, twisted around to grab the 6 pack from Kenny, which he had stole from his dad, who would probably be pissed the second he noticed. Which the amount of knocked out teeth, bruised cheekbones, and scratches on Kenny, Kyle had started to realize Kenny would take on his dad anytime and didn't care about the consequence of stealing anything.

Consequence was all Kyle ever had on his mind, especially with a mother like his.

Cartman was out of the car almost as Kyle had stopped and put the damn thing in park. He fell out of the car and made his way up the lawn and to the door, followed by a hasty and equally excited Kenny. Stan always waited for Kyle, holding the case close to his chest as Kyle pulled his keys from the ignition, wrapping them around his colorful Terrence and Phillip lanyard and putting them neatly in his pocket. He waited for Kyle as he fixed his shirt, obsessive about that anal kind of stuff, fixing the collar so it wasn't twisted or wrinkled. He even waited for Kyle as he unplugged his phone from the car-charger, curling the cord around his finger and pushing it into the small compartment under the radio to keep it from tangling with the aux cord, tucking his phone in the same pocket as his keys, realizing he didn't want them in the same pocket, and switching it over to the opposite pocket. Stan was really patient with Kyle.

They both got out of the car together, on their respective sides. Kyle rounded the front of his car, catching up with Stan pretty quickly as he made his own way to the front of the house. Craig was smoking outside with Tweak, Kyle taking a second look at them before walking inside the house, Tweak freaking out about how dangerous cigarettes were, Craig laughing at him about being here "for a good time, not a long time" before their conversation was drowned out by the loud talking and music that surrounded him now that he was inside.

He was greeted almost instantly by Clyde, trying to mooch the first beer out of Stan's case, causing a petty and fake argument between the two. Kyle found his place next to Stan, Clyde smiling at him with his pearly whites, pushing the beer in his hand towards him "you driving tonight?" he asked, almost as if he must've known the answer. "Yeah, I don't drink dude" Kyle answered, lifting a hand to push the bottle away, Clyde shrugging as if to say "More for me!" before swigging. Kyle already wanted to go home.

Stan set the case down on the couch side table, tearing the flimsy cardboard open and pulling two out, handing one to Clyde, who instinctively set down the one in his hand to grab Stan's and open it. Bebe made her way over to them, with Wendy, like vultures to the familiar sound of cardboard ripping followed by a crack and fizz of a beer.

Bebe was pretty as ever, long and thick blonde curls pushed behind her head, a few stray curls framing her face and resting against her forehead, her full lips topped with bright red lipstick, making them look all the more large. She had always grown somewhat faster then the rest of the girls, and it was especially obvious as she stood next to Wendy, that she was still the most woman of all the teenagers in South Park; which is something Kyle didn't often find himself thinking about. Her full hips, big boobs, and tight red dress really pressed the envelope that Clyde had always been HER eye candy, the person on HER side. She radiates a confidence unimaginable, and next to a drunk loser like Clyde it really shined. That wasn't to say that Clyde wasn't a solid 9/10, a beautiful boy with traditionally white sexy country boy features. To be completely honest, Clyde and Bebe were a set of perfectly fitting gloves, and they looked very good standing next to each other; a power couple at first glance.

That wasn't anything like Wendy and Stan, and not to toot Wendy's horn or anything but, she looked so much prettier standing on her own then next to Stan. She was tall, and everything about her was straight-- straight nose, straight hair, no curves, just elegance. She really was a pretty girl, and she always had been. Stan probably didn't deserve the type of intelligent devotion that Wendy gave him, she was so many leagues above him.

But maybe watching her lean over and kiss him, compliment his hair, had something to do with his sudden distaste in their romance.

"Oh Kyle! I love the top, very fashionable" Wendy broke his train of thought, smiling widely at him as she elbowed Stan playfully "-Stanley you could be taking some notes!" Stan looked at Kyle, as if seeing him for the first time after the liberation of taking his First Sip of beer for the night, smiling and nodding. "Yes, yes, Kyle looks very cute" he teased, pushing on Wendy as if to playfully tell her "stop flirting!!" in a non-embarrassing way. Kyle didn't really linger on the joking flirt as much as he lingered on Stans back handed compliment, twisting the words in his head until they meant something genuine and sweet, in Stan's oh so genuine and sweet voice. 

The small group they had built became sort of uncomfortable, the 2 couples and Kyle, and maybe this was his opportunity to slip away and hide until he heard Stan drunk call his name when it was time to leave. "I'm gonna get popcorn, text me-" he nudges at Stan, who is already too far down the barrel to pay attention or even look up. Natural selection at work infront of his very eyes.

Kyle did find his way to "the snack table" (which was just Bebe's kitchen island, nicely stacked with chips) and peeked around for something he might actually want to eat that wasn't picky beer snacks.He couldn't help but look up at Stan, now far away enough that Stan couldn't see him watching him like a Pedophile at a park, watching him and Wendy play around and laugh, his stomach curdling. He suddenly felt very hot, and mad, like Eric had really pressed his buttons or something. Kyle looked away, grabbing a fistful of M&Ms and shoving them into his mouth.

\------

It had been hours since they had gotten here, Kyle sitting on Bebe's back porch, watching drunk teenagers swim and stumble dangerously close to the edge of the pool, an accident waiting to happen. The sun was down and night time coated the mountain town like a bad movie theater peanut, kids laying on the ground, plastered and staring at the stars. The whole idea seeming oddly poetic. He had been playing on his phone, only looking up at the occasional "Hey Kyle!" or "Heeeeey my nails are 2 long can you open my beer?" from some of Bebe's dressed up friends from dance lessons.

He was surprised when a new voice grabbed his attention, and the seat next to him was taken. "Hey tiger, whatcha doin?" Wendy asked him, her voice slightly promiscuous-- but mostly drunk. Kyle looked over to her with a wary smile, taking her in.

Wendy was still pretty, even when drunk. For a redneck mountain town, the girls here sure did age something special. She had her hair down, her bangs almost too long for her face as they swayed in her eyes, her makeup rubbed and smudged under her eyes. Wendy always dressed "fancy" and tonight was hardly any different-- turtleneck black dress, painted red nails, and a crooked necklace with a visible buckle. Somehow she really did pull off the cute drunk girl look, even with her messy hair and sloppy eyeliner.

"Hey" Kyle answered, clicking his phone off and setting it in his lap. "You busy picking up ladies out here or what?" Wendy laughed, reaching over and playfully flicking his arm.

"Oh yeah, really draggin' them in" Kyle answered, Wendy chuckling and averting her eyes to stare at the ground. Their conversations were always this unnatural, awkward, and short. Surface-level was perfectly deep enough for him and Wendy it seemed. She usually cut to the chase pretty quickly, since they didn't talk much unless one of them needed something.

"Have you seen Stan around?"

"Stan? No, I haven't"

"Oh" She replied bluntly, kicking her foot and chewing on her lip "-do you think you could find him for me?"

She asked him like a video game NPC, like a side quest he didn't need to say yes to, but most definitely Would. Kyle slipped his phone into his jacket pocket, standing up and looking down at her. Wendy looked less existentially romantic from up here, and more worn down and sad. Kyle mostly hoped he wasn't finding his friend to hurtle him 20 feet into the worst drunk breakup of his life. "Yeah, okay. I'll find you"

Finding Stan was harder then you'd think. A inebriated tall toddler pushing through crowds, taking any shot handed to him, and probably kissing someone he shouldn't on a couch he wasn't allowed on. Kyle pushed his way against groups of screaming and sweaty teenagers, up the stairs and over the passed out Freshman, and checked every unlocked bathroom in the house; No Dice. He finally found his way upstairs again, twisting every doorknob slowly to avoid an awkward encounter with some drunk classmates trying to fuck, and Kyle ruining their vibe, before opening the right door in the labyrinth that was Bebe Steven's house.

Kyle opened the door to Bebe's room, a room too beautiful and expensive for Stan's queasy ass to be napping in. The room was lit up only by Christmas lights nailed to the walls, her themed bedroom dim and perfect for a sick Stan to stumble into for refuge. Stan was on the floor, slowly curling and uncurling his fingers from the fur rug that sat under her bed, the one Stan had definitely already spilled something on. His hair was messy and his shirt twisted, eyes hazy and hard to focus on even this far away. Stan was wasted, beyond party wasted, and to next level "can't stand or I'll shit myself" kind of wasted. Kyle quickly walked over to him, shutting the door behind him and kicking his foot up at him. Stan flinched, blinking rapidly and looking up like a deer in headlights, before a big and stupid smile spread on his red face. He raised his hands, giggling at Kyle, and trying to pull him down. Kyle sighed, crouching and putting his hand firmly on Stan's shoulder. 

"You okay?" Kyle asked, obviously already knowing the answer.

Stan’s head lolled backwards, eyes struggling to focus on Kyle as he processed the question. Stan shook his head, sloppily throwing his hand up and shoving his cup in Kyle’s face, laughing again. Kyle rolled his eyes as he stood up, pushing the cup away and giving Stan an angry look. “It’s okayyy” Stan slurred, grabbing Bebe’s bed frame to push himself up “-pease don’t get- get mad!”

Stan harked on his words, vomit sitting in the back of his throat as he tried to stand. Kyle groaned, grabbing Stan harshly and tugging him upwards, watching him stumble and try and re-balance his head. “Hey man! Not cool!” he whined, holding his head in his hand, beer can still clutched cold in his palm. He was gross to look at, slurry and covered in his own spit, looked like he’d been sent through a tornado and back. Stan leaned forward, cheeks flushing as he dropped his beer, clutching his stomach. “Dude—“ Kyle reached out his arms, holding on to Stan's shoulder and helping him sit back down, sitting with him. Kyle rubbed his arms, sighing and letting go of him. “Kyle” Stan started, reaching a hand out and waving towards the ground unverble. Kyle blinked at him, waiting for some type of sentence, before turning to look behind him to where Stan was reaching for. A spilled beer laid against Bebe’s beige carpet, Stan whining like a dog for it.

Kyle shook his head angrily “you are disgusting.” making Stan frown, weakly kicking his legs and crying.

He was ready to leave Stan and tell Wendy where he was and let her take it from there, so beyond grossed out with his behavior; sorta shallowly hoping she would break up with him if he left them alone. Kyle didn’t have time to reminisce on the thought before, mid-crouch, Stan tugged on Kyles jacket and pulled Kyle into his lap. That was the graceful way of putting it at least, Kyle really landing face first against Stan’s chest and his long legs buckling and folding under all the pressure. Stan wrapped his arms around Kyles head, squeezing him tighter against his stomach and rocking him back and forth slightly. “Baaaaby....my babyyy” Stan mumbled, trying to replicate singing, rubbing his hand over and through Kyles thick and knotted curls. 

“Ow— C’mon dude” Kyle swatted and pulled against Stan, dangerously close to his best friend. Stan was so warm, especially when he was canned. Kyle finally gave up when Stan whined, frantically and successfully forcing Kyle into a soft yet inescapable arm lock, still humming and mumbling a song to him; one Kyle had never heard. Stan stopped, pulling Kyles head back and staring down at him, the awkward position making him look ugly. He placed his thumb on Kyles check, effectively cupping his cheek and rubbing gently. The beat of music stayed trapped outside the door, faint and almost distant music serving as some soothing “stare into your best friends eyes” background noise. 

And quite suddenly and shockingly, Stan tugged Kyle up by the jaw, making Kyle scramble to keep up or else suffer a dislocation. With their faces centimeters apart, Stan presses his mouth against Kyle’s, meeting in a drunk and disgusting kiss. Kyle’s eyes were wide with shock, but he wasn’t struggling. This felt normal, right, good? It made his face red and his stomach churn in circles as he tasted the last 24 shots Stan had ingested, and the 3 cases of beer that clung to his tongue. 

Stan held Kyle close, moving his hand from Kyle’s cheek and locking his arm around his head and keeping him closer, barley leaving any room for the kiss. They were both suddenly closer then they’d ever been before, Stan shoving his tongue so far down Kyle’s throat he could feel his dinner, he was sure Stan had never really kissed Wendy so disgustingly. It didn’t feel disgusting with Stan, even if it sounded disgusting. Kyle had his eyes clenched shut, but every time he peaked, Stan was staring right back at him. In that split second, when they were both fully sober, looking so close at each other Kyle felt tight in his clothes. In that second; Kyle felt love.

It wasn’t like this was the first time Stan had made him feel like this. It’s nothing Kyle would ever admit, and truthfully, something he completely repressed. What kind of Jew would he be to fall in love with Stan, what kind of man would he be?

He finally pulled himself away when the click of a doorknob and the flooding of loud music entered the room, the muted and bump of the base filling the room and throwing Kyle back into his location, the feeling of Stan’s tongue leaving his throat gross and uncomfortable. He looked up at the door, the shocked eyes of one Bebe Stevens finding her best friends boyfriend making out with his best friend on her bedroom floor turning from surprise to sisterly anger. “EW! Get OUT drunkass!” she shouted, Clyde peaking out from behind her, his hand clutched in hers viciously. Kyle stumbles upwards, fixing his jacket and tugging on Stan, Bebe screaming at them to “GET OUT GET OUT GET THE FUCK OUT!!!” the entire exhausting mission. Clyde was drunker then a dog, watching Stan throw up in the hallway as his girlfriend slammed the door behind her. 

—————  
Kyle dropped off Kenny first, then Cartman, and always Stan last. Usually Stan would be staying with Kyle— but not tonight. He parked in front of Stan’s house, looking across the car at him, Stan drunkenly laying against the window with his knees pulled up, rubbing his head.

“I’m shhhSorry” Stan broke the silence, rubbing at his wet eyes with the back of his hand, sniffing and breathing heavy. 

Was he crying? Kyle stared at him for awhile, his mouth still very conscious of the feeling of Stan inside it, waiting impatiently for it again. It made him feel embarrassed, made him feel gross. The kiss was weird, wet, and tasted like Budweiser; so why did his body churn so uncomfortably when he remembered it? Kyle clenched the wheel, biting down on his tongue as he looked over at Stan “you didn’t do anything Stan, stop crying.”

The passive-aggressive tone Kyle gave must’ve been the accelerator, making Stan sob a few times before breaking down into a fit. He pressed himself against the door, sobbing and kicking his feet like a kid. Kyle stiffened up, Stan throwing down his hands as he tried to wipe his face “i HATE HER, KYLE!” he shouted through the weeps, breath catching. “I don’t love her, i don’t want to- i don’t want to-“ he tried to get out, struggling with his grip on the door handle. Kyle stopped him, putting a firm hand around his upper arm.“Stan, you’re drunk“ he tried to start, maybe lulling him into going inside to sleep "you're just mad at her! You'll feel better in the morning, i-" Stan cut him off, shaking his hand away, going crazy again. “Shut UP!!! SHUT UP SHUT UP-“ Stan screamed, turning towards Kyle and snorting “i Like BOYS.” 

And suddenly, Stan was sober. His face dropping as Kyle turned stone white, his grip on the wheel almost murderous. Stan shook his head No, tugging on the locked door before pulling up the lock himself and shoving the door open, shambling out of the car and into his yard. He stared at Kyle for a few seconds before slamming the door and running up his yard into his house.

Kyle sat there awhile, staring blankly at the street as he processed the night and let it catch up with him. Saying he misread the issue would be a cheap attempt at acting naive to the entire night, pretending like Stan hadn't kissed him like the spring fling queen on Bebe's floor, and acting like he hadn't stared down Wendy the entire night with something short of resentment. He felt like he was gonna vomit even if he hadn't had anything to drink. Kyle watched the street ahead of him, he was only 7 houses down, no one in South park young enough to be out this late besides him. He could walk, but he wouldn't, then he'd have to walk back in the morning. His eyes got irritated, tears shelling the entirety of his sclera, before he blinked them anyway with a scowl on his face; putting the car in drive and getting himself home. 

They could talk about it tomorrow.


	2. spit

“ ** _Talking about it_** ” with Stan had never been easy. Built, mentally, just like his father, so tedious and hard to work around.

It was a blessing that Kyle Broflovski was built to handle someone like Stan. It was easy for him to wiggle and pass through sentences, work his way around sore subjects, and even stay calm for someone so irritating. Kyle wasn’t a puzzle to piss off, always ready to defend his case and give a 4 page essay monologue on his opinion of Kenny’s taste in music— which, on the opposite side of things, was the polar of one Stan Marsh. Stan was calm, avoidant, and shy, quick to completely avert conflict and ignore it; which made Kyle a vicious rival.

Regardless of how miserable that sounds, this situation was _perfect_  for Stan. He could get Kyle started, a snowball that was hard to stop, and let him completely take over a conversation without having to do any arguing himself. Kyle would talk and talk and talk until they made it to class or he got bored or off track— but sooner or later Kyle would tire out and Stan didn’t contribute at all. 

But Kyle’s favorite form of interrogation was confrontation, asking questions to Stan that Kyle couldn’t answer for himself via Stan’s self-destructive-argument method, backing him into a mental corner and driving him insane. It was worse when Kyle deserved an answer, worse when Kyle needed an answer— exactly like right now.

Stan was laying in bed well aware of the crunching time he had before Kyle would be there to pick him up. Still, he laid in bed, groggy and droopy as he looked up at the ceiling, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

He felt completely coated in slime, or the grime that coats your tongue after waking up from a bad nap, listening to his phone vibrate against the wood of his nightstand. He knew it was Wendy, texting him and texting him, trying to unbreakup with him, trying to make a sober (and probably correct) decision. Stan needed Wendy just as much as she needed him, mostly for completely different reasons. Wendy needed a Boyfriend, someone to gossip about, someone to use as an ice breaker for girl talk, a number to cheer for at football games.

Stan needed a beard.

That was the joke at least, between him and his friends, the classic joke that one guy in the circle was cursed with after Craig actually turned out to be gay. The group “queer who squeezes butts at sleepovers” as Clyde would put it.

Unfortunately, Stan was put in that spot after Craig and Tweak became official news and the joke wasn’t as funny anymore.

That was scary, and Stan didn’t really know why. He wasn’t gay, obviously, so why was he scared? You’d have to answer that for him. But self-preservation is self-preservation, and anything to at least keep a slightly insensitive joke strictly that; a  **joke**.

Stan finally pulled himself from his bed, sitting up and staring out his window. The green grass coating the yards of his neighborhood was a fresh but unfamiliar perk to Colorado summers, even if it was still cold up in the mountains. It wasn’t so bright in the mornings without the snow reflecting sunlight, which added a slight bit more of motivation to waking up. It looked prettier outside. Stan stood up, sifting through the mess of clothes on his bedroom floor, pulling out the cleanest t-shirt he could find and pulling it on. Walking to his hamper and grabbing the top pair of jeans, squeezing into them. There, all done! Throwing his coat over his shoulders and pulling it on, and even the “summer heat” wouldn’t stop him from wearing his hat, especially in the mornings. 

Stan looked at himself in the mirror, that inescapable vibration finally unavoidable. He walked to his dresser and picked up his phone, tugging it from its charger and checking his notifications.

**Mom**

Rise and Shine ☀️

**Wendy**

talk at school, okay? (13 unread)

Stan stared at the **13 unread** for awhile, sweating before he even got outside. He would take up her offer, sliding the bar over and ignoring whatever she had said regardless of send time, since it was probably a load of things he didn’t wanna read anyway. 

He stuck his phone in his pocket, opening his door and moving down the stairs looking over into his living room at his dad. Randy was asleep on the couch, a throw blanket tossed over his legs and a valley of cans scattered on the coffee table. Sparky laid curled up on the little space left on the couch against his stomach, both of them snoring away.

Stan turned the corner, making his grand entrance into the kitchen; and oh grand was it! Sharon threw her hands into the air, waving them around frantically, shouting a sarcastic “He lives!! HE LIVES!!” as Stan took a seat at the kitchen table. Shelly didn’t seem as excited, slumped in her chair picking at her breakfast. His mom seemed oddly chipper for the morning, especially a morning that seemed to follow an exciting night for Dad. He wouldn’t complain though, especially since she didn’t seem to have anything to say about Stan’s equally as charged night.

”How did you sleep, hon?” she asked, pushing the scrambled eggs around in the pan.

”Fine, fine...” Stan murmured tiredly.

“How was your little party?”

“Oh it was okay. Boring— Bebe always throws effete parties” He fibbed, garnering a unimpressed noise from his sister. 

Sharon shook her head, also seemingly unimpressed with Stan’s mockery of women, hers followed by a laugh though. “Well a boring party is a safe one! As long as you get home safe-“ 

“-and **SOBER** ” Randy called from the couch

”-and sober.” Sharon laughed, stirring around the eggs again. Stan shrugged, picking at the flaking wood on their faux kitchen table. His mom turned to look at him, examining him like something was off, before a loud beep interrupted the conversation.

”Oh! That’s my cue” He sat up, pushing in his chair and speeding from the kitchen, grabbing Shelly’s hair and tugging, followed by a loud and angry “OW! fuck you Stan!” as he quickly made his way out the door, exiting to excited dog barking. 

Stan chuckled to himself, imagining the funny look on her face before dread hit him, staring forward at that pale blue 2007 Saturn ION, a car that he had been dreading sitting in all night. He woefully trudged to the car, jumping off the curb and rounding the vehicle, surprised when he opened the passenger door to see Kenny. Oh but god had Stan never been happier to see Kenny Mccormick! He stepped back, smiling at him.

”Sorry tiger I get shotgun today!” Kenny joked

Stan wasn’t gonna argue, throwing up his hands and slamming the door, opening the back and hoping in. “Dude you literally live on the other side of town?” 

“Yeah i know” Kyle budded in, the air heavy between the two of them. Kyle was joking though, so Stan was more then willing to avoid the confrontation. Kenny laughed, his arm wrapped around Kyle’s seat as he leaned back to look at Stan, the car jerking forward on assumedly the road to Eric’s house.

Kenny’s smile was big but not pretty, missing a few major teeth, his champers never really seeing the luxury of braces. He has a new bruise, like, New new right on his cheekbone, a sloppy and old bandage covering his cheek. It was soaked with dried blood, Stan able to deduct that the bruise was from the party last night and not his dad— Either theory viable. His hair was getting long, Stan remembering the last time he cut it to when Eric had sat him down in the bathroom and helped him buzz his head mid breakdown, winning him the spot of favorite friend and Kenny’s mom Least Favorite Friend (as if he wasn’t already). He looked beat up, but he always did, his fingers wrapped and treated in a thousand different places, his wrists the same. It had been years since Stan had seen Kenny without bandages around his wrists, probably since 7th grade. Somehow Kenny was still so pretty, Somehow. 

“What happened with the—uh” Stan pointed and motioned towards his cheek, Kenny laughing and pushing his hand away.

”Dude it was INSANE! Hold up— Hold up-“ he started, readjusting his seating in the car so he could more comfortably blabber to Stan. It was mostly a distraction though, Stan looking past Kenny at the side of Kyle’s face. He was focused, stern when he drove, his eyebrows always furrowed together like he was deep in thought. He had high cheekbones, freckles spreading all the way to the back of his neck and down his spine, his hair curling and tangling around the bottom of his hat, moving and shifting every time Kyle looked another direction. Stan looked up at the hanging mirror, able to see Kyle’s eyes clearly regardless of the glare he was giving the street, hazel naturally. Stan liked Kyle’s eyes, different from all his friends but not unique to any sort of visual stereotype his genetics would suggest. He was a ginger with green eyes, nothing culturally subversive there.

Still they mattered to Stan.

Kyle finally broke Stan’s stare, glancing at him via the mirror and forcing Stan to look down, clearing his throat and fixing his eyes back on Kenny, who hadn’t seemed to notice.

——————

After parking in his usual spot, Kenny was the first to hop out, standing unusually between Stan and Kyle as they walked into the school, putting Stan next to Cartman and ruining a pretty natural lineup they always stood in. Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny not Kyle, Kenny, Stan, Cartman. The change was enough to finally tip Stan off that something interpersonal was happening. Kyle had obviously picked up Kenny first for a reason that morning, he was aware of that from the get but suddenly the idea that something was happening behind Stan’s back made his stomach fill up with more butterflies then he had the capacity for, threatening to let some out in the form of butterfly mushy vomit. 

Stan would rather be dealing with Wendy then Kyle it dawned on him.

Luckily for him, he had first period alone. Stan didn’t wanna be stuck anymore, walking in front of his cluster of friends and waving goodbye frantically. “Sorry guys I gotta talk to Wendy pretty heavy stuff i’ll see you 2nd block Kenny bye-“ he word vomited, rounding the corner after the front doors and slipping into History. 

He was greeted instantly with the retreating Bebe, her face nearly meeting his as she halted at the door. She smiled at him, grabbing his arm and turning, waving at Wendy and pointing at Stan. Wendy greeting her with a wide toothed yes-i-see-him-fuck-off-ttyl smile as Bebe let him go and passed him into the hallway. Stan shook his head to forget the experience, making his way next to Wendy and sitting down, smiling at her.

Even if Kyle was mad, at least Wendy wasn’t. She pulled out their books, watching over Stan’s after he lost the first 3 and she helped pay a 45 dollar fee, something she would “never fucking do again.” He grinned at her, catching her hand before she pulled it away and holding it in his, Wendy giggling and rolling her eyes at him. Everything was okay, everything was back to how it usually was. All he had to do was simply tell Kyle “hey! sorry about last night but me and Wendy are back together so no hard feelings!” 

That’s all.

Stan half-listened to the teacher ramble about what pages to turn to and where to submit answers, threatening that if anyone wrote in the margins she’d “rip them apart”. Once she turned them loose he looked at Wendy, watching her mumble and move around her papers to prepare her working station, the work he was gonna let her do and then copy off her. 

“I actually like to write in the book, so i don’t have to keep track of so much stuff! like why waste paper when the book gives us a place to write! it’s so wasteful-“ Wendy opened her book, running her hand down the crease and flattening the book to the desk. She lifted her hand, spreading out her fingers and gesturing her newly done nails at Stan “do you like the— are you okay?”

Stan was knocked from his stare, breathing out his nose and nodding at her. Wendy leaned towards him, lifting her hand and cupping his cheek. Her hands were cold, and he could smell the lotion she had applied to her hands. She always had a way of coaxing his feelings out, her small smirk and the way she applied her eyeliner cockeyed always distracted him from holding anything back, like a superpower. 

“I think Kyle’s pissed at me” he sighed, pressing himself into her hand. Wendy looked concentrated, rubbing his cheek with her thumb and looking him over. In a lot of ways her and Kyle were scarily similar; both so driven and passionate, outspoken and stern, even making the same inquisitive faces. Wendy pulled her hand away, pinching his cheek before placing her hands neatly back on the desk. “Well you did make him drive you home drunk as fuck last night!” she joked, nudging him and grabbing her pencil, clicking it repeatedly until led poked out. Stan mimicked her, stealing the paper she had placed out for him and sloppily printing his name at the top.

“I didn’t **make** him do anything, he found me drunk in Bebe’s room and drug us all home!” he defended himself, throwing a hand up before looking at her paper and copying her setup. 

“Okay okay, touchy! I’m just saying maybe he’s mad he had to leave the party?”

”He hates her parties, Wendy.”

Wendy made a sour face, huffing and shaking her head. There’s no way she didn’t know that, especially since she had been the one to point out how he “always found a quiet spot to wait them out”, as she would put it. She had also been the one to cry at Stan, asking him where Kyle was so she could talk to him; but most of that was blurry now.

”Maybe he’s mad you got so drunk?” she added another possibility, and how possible it was. Stan wasn’t looking for a _Why_ though, looking for a _How_ to solve it. He knew why Kyle was so mad, that was the only part of the night that felt sober in his mind. 

“I’m just worried he won’t wanna go out anymore, i don’t want him to stay mad at me” Stan added, mindlessly copying her notes. Wendy looked at him, flipping her purple pencil between her fingers “it’s gonna be okay, Stan! Kyle is dramatic, and always upset about something. If you really are his best-friend then he’ll remember that he’s gotta get over petty stuff! Bebe does it all the time!” she blabbed, spilling her words of wisdom.

Stan nodded along, not personally sure if Wendy and Bebe’s arguments about who’s boyfriend played football better or about Bebe wearing Wendy’s favorite top really chopped up to what him and Kyle were going through right now. 

Still he let it slide by, Wendy moving on to complaining about something new as she copied down her notes, Stan double-copying as he ignored the impending. 

——————

Stan was able to reweave his path to class, avoiding Kyle until 3rd block passing. He stopped in their cluster in-front of Eric’s locker, Stan and Kenny listening to his obviously blown out story about something “crazy” that happened in his second block. Stan was too distracted to laugh along with Kenny, practically jumping when a new pair of feet stepped into the circle, his head shooting up from the floor to look at Kyle.

Kyle wasn’t looking back, clutching on to his backpack with both hands, shuffling as Kenny “caught him up to speed.” There was certainly something special about the double filter of Eric through Kenny, the story becoming even more jumbled and insane. 

And even funnier when Eric would turn to Kenny and an argument broke out about who was telling it right. That’s when Kyle swooped for the kill, Stan watching him make the decision in his peripheral. “Hey Stan, can i talk to you?”

And with that Stan caught the bullet in his right lung, throat dry as he nodded and Kyle guided him away from the bickering couple and walking him to his death Ted Bundy style. Stan turned towards Kyle in the corner of the lockers, huffing and looking around uncomfortably. Kyle let go of his bag and prepared his hands for gestures. 

“What happened last night.” he didn’t really ask as a question more of him stating a fact.

”I— i don’t remember really...” Stan wasn’t entirely lying, playing coy on the topic Kyle wanted to talk about. 

“Don’t be an ass, Stan. I wanna talk-“ 

“I know you do, trust me.” Stan rolled his eyes, Kyle grimacing at him, looking unhappy with his immaturity on the situation.

“Look, i don’t know what happened last night Stan but—“ 

“I’m not gay.” Stan cut him off, blunt and quiet as to not let any open ears walking down the hallway hear him. Kyle tensed up, the G-word a violent pierce through the conversation. Stan licked his lips, shifting awkwardly. He watched Kyle readily open his mouth, deciding he had something smarter to say.

”i’m not gay— and i won’t be. Ever. Me and Wendy broke up and i was drunk and confused i barley remember any of it! Whatever i said was a drunk mistake, i didn’t mean any of it” He progressively got louder, the hallways clearing out. Kenny and Eric still waiting at the locker, and peaking over Kyle’s shoulder, Stan could see them nonchalantly eaves-dropping.

”Stan-“

”And I really care about you dude but not like that. I fucked up, it’s not your fault! I’m in love with Wendy and i was really stupid to get so drunk and break up with her. She’s my entire world dude, i can’t let her think i’m a fag man. It’s funny between the guys but not when something like this happens it’s way too far i-“

”No one has ever made me feel like that.” Kyle interrupted. Stan looked up from the floor, Kyle’s eyes red and watery, his breath hitching and unkept. Stan’s eyes darting around his face, he couldn’t be crying? 

“Kyle I-“

”It felt so right Stan, did it not feel right for you? Why would you kiss me if you don’t fucking mean it? Drunk or not you don’t fucking french your best friend!” Kyle protested angrily, a defensive face covering up the tears welling up and noticeably blinding him. “I felt once in my life like i was doing something right— it felt good, Stan! You’re the one you told me you were-“

”Ky, Kyle stop-“

”-You TOLD ME you were gay, Stan!” he blurted, tears finally breaking the seal and spilling down his cheek. Kyle caught his composure, pulling his coat sleeves over the soles of his hands and wiping them away. “I don’t know why this is pissing me off so much fuck— never mind that’s exactly what i wanted you to say. Let’s forget it-“

”Kyle i didn’t mean to-“ Stan attempted to back track, his entire head swirling around with a lack of concentration; maybe there was a reason he always got nauseous around Kyle.

”Forget it. Really—“ Kyle stood up straight, waving his hand at him and shaking his head, gripping his bag and regulating his breathing. Eric and Kenny picked their opportunity to swoop in, Kenny walking over and putting his hand on Kyle’s back, Eric squeezing himself in and looking between them.

”This about Wendy or something?” he asked  insensitively, Kyle tensing up and shaking his head. Poor timing, really not Stan’s idea of how he wanted the conversation to go.

The bell rang, reminding the boys of the empty hallways and how late they were. Eric and Kenny splitting up to walk down the hallway, waiting for Stan to follow. Kyle looked at him, giving him those thinking eyes, shaking his head and attempting to walk the opposite direction to his class. 

“Kyle-“ Stan started, Kyle turning to look at him, his patience like standing on a twig with military boots. “-i’m sorry.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, bouncing unceremoniously, shaking his head at Stan “you didn’t do anything, it’s okay. Forget it”

Stan should be relieved, but the energy between them was anything but resolved. Stan nodded at him and turned towards his other two friends, glancing back at Kyle, who was already long gone.

The trio walked in silence together, picking off at their own classes and saying goodbye to each other. Stan walked alone to Science, his stomach turning as he broke apart the conversation, sorry for all the things he had said. He should’ve let Kyle talk, avoiding his smart mouth. He opened the classroom door, the usual “glad you could join us Marsh!” spewing from his teacher, finding his seat lifeless, so twisted up in thought. Stan dropped his bag by his chair, pulling out his phone and opening his messages, not even needing to scroll to see Kyle’s icon. 

It was the first picture Stan took on his phone when he got it, excitedly trying out the portrait feature for the first time, hardly touching it since. Kyle had his hand up, flipping the bird with his tongue hanging out, his hat not strong enough to incase his curls. Stan stared at the picture for a few seconds, reminding himself of all his favorite parts. When they took it, Stan stared at it for awhile, Kyle too busy working out pizza ordering with his mom to notice. Stan’s finger hovered over the name for awhile before tapping it, opening the messages and texting him.

**Stan**

Hey do you wanna come over tonight?

He stared chapped-lipped at the messages, the small dotted cloud popping up surprisingly fast, disappearing and reappearing a few times. Stan almost pissed himself when the grey message finally rolled on the screen.

**Kyle**

Sure.


End file.
